


Steak Dinner for One

by SadakoTetsuwan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Fine Dining, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Rich Bitch Hanzo, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadakoTetsuwan/pseuds/SadakoTetsuwan
Summary: Oyabun Hanzo Shimada just wants toenjoyhis dinner, a succulent cut of wagyu beef...---Bless you, Blizzard, for giving us canon rich bitch Hanzo Shimada





	Steak Dinner for One

Hanzo let out a soft groan, his fork lingering in his mouth for a moment. The steak—Matsusaka beef—was _so_ tender. The marbled fat, barely holding together at room temperature after cooking, surrendered to the heat of his mouth, melting across his tongue, bursting with flavor and coating the inside of his mouth with its warmth and spice. He sighed through his nose, slowly pulling the fork past his lips and savoring the flavor for a few moments. He allowed his tongue to dart out and lap up the tingling warmth that dared escape his lips, practically purring.

Fifty thousand yen was such a small price to pay for culinary perfection…

“Ah, pardon me, Mr. Shimada,” the host murmured in his ear, “But two gentlemen are here to see you—they are not local, I’m afraid…”

“Have my men spoken with them?”

“I believe they searched them on the way in—they seemed quite upset with their treatment. They only want to speak with you, sir.”

“Very well, send them in,” Hanzo sighed, his motions slow as he returned to his steak, letting out a soft huff as he cut another piece; presumably annoyed at the continuing interruptions to his meal.

“President Shimada?”

Hanzo’s thick brow quirked as two thick-set men in identical cheap suits shifted in front of him, obviously uncomfortable in another gang’s turf and doubly so in the presence of such an important man.

“Obviously.”

“We’re terribly sorry to interrupt your meal, sir—we’re with the Shin-Kyokutou-kai, and we have strong evidence that someone we have been tracking has entered your territory,” one of the men began, pulling up a slightly blurry photo of a man with _extremely_ questionable taste in fashion; a broad-brimmed cowboy hat, an enormous golden belt buckle and a black cape of some sort, obscuring the insignia on his shoulder. The only thing he was missing was a mustache he could twirl while tying a woman to the railroad tracks.

Other than that, though, the man was very handsome. Tall and roguish-looking with his strong jaw and scruffy sideburns and a little soul patch, downturned lips that had such a strong bow to them Hanzo was sure he could pluck it, warm heavy-lidded brown eyes, a thickly muscled torso, strong hands with clever-looking fingers—

“Haven’t seen him,” Hanzo shrugged, casually turning back to his dish and trying to disguise the deep breath he drew as simply savoring the aroma of his dinner.

“Forgive us, President Shimada, but we are certain he is in Fukuryuu-kai territory, and has been for several days. We…tracked him all the way to the edge of the Shimada-gumi subdivision,” the talker of the two said sheepishly.

“You’ve been in Fukuryuu-kai territory that long and have kept your lives?” Hanzo asked, all amusement leaving his eyes.

“Our humble organization has been in contact with each of your bosses along the way—but we were unable to contact you, sir, before now. The boss of the Nandou-gumi told us where we could find you—in strict confidence, of course,” he added, sweating bullets. His hand clearly itched to reach for the handkerchief in his pocket, but he dare not risk reaching for something unknown in the presence of such a dangerous man as Shimada Hanzo.

“I shall have to have a talk with my men,” Hanzo remarked; the two men exchanged a look of grave concern. “This man you seek. He’s a foreigner, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then there aren’t many places in _my_ district that he would be allowed into. Most of the establishments under direct Shimada-gumi protection operate on a ‘no first-timers’ basis—the present location included,” Hanzo explained, carefully cutting another piece of meat and savoring it, sighing in overt pleasure at the rich flavor. The mooks from out of town could wait, and his steak was _far_ more appealing. “…Try asking around the snack bars and soaplands closer to the train station. They don’t mind _new_ customers who don’t speak Japanese, and it looks like that’s all he could afford around here, anyway,” Hanzo sniffed.

A moment passed, and Hanzo’s eyes slid shut. His fingers flexed experimentally around his utensils and he let out a slightly hitched breath before he returned to the moment.

“Do you need someone to show you out?” he asked irritably, his gaze flicking from one man to another. Without waiting for a carefully formulated and polite response, he tore the napkin from his lap and flung it down, growling something about them ruining his evening. He leaned back and reached below the table, gently flicking the tablecloth aside.

“Excuse me for a moment, these gentlemen need to be shown the door,” he smirked, gazing down into a pair of familiar hooded brown eyes. His thumb traced along the foreigner’s lower lip, so much softer than he’d looked in the photo the Shin-Kyo men had showed him only a minute before, as he carefully withdrew his cock from the man's hot mouth, his wet tip dragging across the man's lip for a moment as well. His wickedly talented tongue swept out to follow where Hanzo’s cockhead and thumb had traced and flicked across his digit teasingly—he’d grown bored with merely cockwarming halfway through the first course, and Hanzo had never been more pleased to take ‘payment’ for protection. He allowed his fingers to possessively card through the man’s thick chestnut hair for a moment before finally pushing his chair back.

Hanzo made a bit of a show of tucking his hard cock back into his charcoal gray pants, the silver pinstripes not doing much to disguise his length as he buttoned it away. “Follow me, _gentlemen_ ,” he smirked.


End file.
